Wheel Of Misfortune
by TesubCalle
Summary: Written for the NFA AntiAlien: Stan Burley Challenge. Several familiar faces from the NCIS universe are abducted by aliens and forced to be contestants on a crazy game show. Crack!Fic, for sure, starring Stan Burley, of course.


**A/N: One-shot, slightly humourous piece of crack!Fic, written, as my Summary says, for the NFA AntiAlien: Stan Burley Challenge. Hope you enjoy my weirdness... Appearances by lots of familiar faces. Sorry there was no room for Ducky or Palmer. (Trust me, if Ducky had been included, they would all be dead.)**

**Wheel of Misfortune**

NCIS Special Agent Afloat Stan Burley couldn't remember ever being more disoriented and panic-stricken in his entire life. One moment, he was on board the air craft carrier, the next – he wasn't. He remembered a bright flash of light that surrounded him, and the feeling that his entire body was imploding. This was followed by a penetrating cold and the sensation that his brain was being rended like halves of an orange over a manual juicer. He tried crying out in pain, but found he could not even draw a breath into his lungs. Before he could rationalize that without oxygen he would perish, his feet touched solid ground, and his brain no longer felt like it was being turned to pulp. Stan also discovered he could breathe, and he wasn't freezing. The bright light suddenly vanished, and he was plunged into a formless, eerie darkness.

Stan blindly stretched out his arms, groping around for something – anything – that would tell him where he was. He attempted to take a tentative step forward, but his legs refused to cooperate. Some invisible force was restraining him. He tried to calm his racing heartbeat; tried to rationalize what was happening...

_Am I dead_? was his first thought. _Were we attacked by some terrorist weapon, and now I'm waiting to see the Big Man Upstairs?_

The notion seemed rather ludicrous to Stan. But wherever and whatever this place was, he felt very alone.

"Where on earth am I?" Stan finally spoke aloud in exasperation, not really expecting an answer. His spoken question was actually an edited version of the terrified and profanity-laden questions that were screaming inside his head.

Stan nearly jumped out of his skin when other voices rose out of the darkness expressing similar queries at almost the exact same instant. It was a soft murmur that built to a _mezzo forte_, and then a hush, as if all the owners of the other voices also suddenly became aware they were not alone.

After a brief period of startled silence, a simultaneous cacophony of voices broke out again:

"Who's there?!"

"Who said that?"

"I can't move!"

"Can anybody hear me?"

"Please! Get me out of here!"

...and variations thereof.

An unexpected piercing whistle cut through the competing nattering, and silence reigned again.

Stan's pulse quickened. If he didn't know any better, that whistle sounded very much like...

"Thank you, everyone, for shutting up," a familiar male voice spoke out. "Now, my name's Gibbs -"

" Gibbs?!" an excited voice that sounded two parts nine-year-old girl, one part sandpaper interjected. "Oh, thank _God! _Where are you? I can't see you!"

"Abby-" the Gibbs-voice intoned.

"Yes! It's me! Oh, Gibbs, I'm so _glad _you're here, too."

"Abby..." the Gibbs-voice intoned again, this time with an inflection that said _shut up._

"Sorry," the Abby-voice whispered, abashed.

Stan also held his tongue and waited for Gibbs to continue. Inside, though, he felt a surge of elation. This was his old boss! He was here! And Stan was further relieved to know he wasn't the only one in this strange predicament. Moments ago, he was convinced he would have very quickly become unhinged had he not been able to make sense of his surroundings.

"My name is Gibbs," the Gibbs-voice reiterated. "I'm a federal agent with the Naval Criminal Investigative Service... Now, I don't know where we are or how we got here, but I think introductions might be a good place to start. We can't see each other, so we're going to really have to listen to each other. If we all start talking at once, we're never going to get anywhere.

"Here's what we're going to do: If you're with NCIS, I want you to clap twice on the count of three."

Stan readied himself by bringing his palms together.

"One, two, three," Gibbs-voice said.

There was a smattering of _one-two _claps, the sound echoing slightly.

"Good," the Gibbs-voice said. "Sounds like there are lots of us here... We'll start with NCIS, then, and we'll go alphabetically. If your surname starts with 'Alpha', clap once."

Silence.

"Okay, go 'Bravo'."

Stan clapped one time.

"Name?" Gibbs-voice asked.

"Burley, Stan! Boy, am I relieved to hear your voice, Boss!"

"Likewise, Agent Burley... Moving on. 'Charlie', clap once."

Another clap sounded. It startled Stan slightly because it was so close to him.

"Name?"

"Cassidy, Paula," a voice to Stan's right spoke up.

"Thanks, Agent Cassidy... And I don't need _you_ to clap next, Agent DiNozzo, I can _feel_ you grinning."

"Wow, Boss," an unamused Tony DiNozzo spoke up from the inky blackness, "so glad to know you know me so well."

Gibbs ran through the rest of the alphabet, and had to wait until 'Juliet' to receive another response.

"Jardine, Nikki," came a small voice.

"Thanks, Agent Jardine... 'Kilo'?"

No response.

"'Lima'..."

Silence.

"'Mike'..."

_Clap._

"Uh, it's um, it's me, Tim... I mean McGee, Timothy, sir... I mean, Special Agent Gibbs."

"McGee!" Abby-voice squealed with glee. "I'm so glad you're here! Well, not _really_ glad, since we have _no_ idea where _here_ is, and we haven't a _clue_ what's going on, but -"

"Abby," Gibbs growled.

"Sorry," Abby-voice said contritely, and clammed up.

"Moving on," Gibbs said. "Anybody with 'November'? 'Oscar'? 'Papa'?"

'Papa' yielded a double result.

"Sounds like there's two of you," Gibbs noted. "Let's go alphabetically again: If your name is Papa-Alpha, clap once."

_Clap. Clap._

"Okay," Gibbs said, "If you're Papa-Alpha-Bravo, clap once."

No sound.

"Papa-Alpha-Charlie."

_Clap._

"Pacci, Christopher," the agent announced.

"Good to hear you, Agent Pacci," Gibbs said. "Okay, next person?"

"Patterson, Jack," the second agent identified himself.

"Thanks, Agent Patterson... 'Quebec'? 'Romeo'? I _know _you're there, Abs... but any other 'Sierra' NCIS staff?

_Clap._

"Shepard, Jenny. It's good to hear your voice, Jethro..."

"Jen..." Gibbs acknowledged.

Stan immediately noticed the informal way Gibbs greeted Agent Shepard, and thought he caught the hint of an emotional undercurrent in Gibbs' response. He wondered what connection Gibbs had to her.

"'Tango'?" Gibbs requested next.

"It's me, Gibbs. Todd, Caitlin," came a tired-sounding sigh.

"Thanks, Agent Todd... 'Uniform';'Victor'..."

_Clap._ The sound was quite close to Stan.

"Vance, Leon," came a voice to Stan's left.

"Thanks, Agent Vance," Gibbs said, "and rounding out the rest of the alphabet: 'Whiskey'... 'X-Ray'... 'Yankee'-"

_Clap._

"Yates, Cassie."

"Thanks, Agent Yates," Gibbs said. "I don't believe we have any 'Zulu' agents, so that's it for NCIS. Just to be sure I didn't miss anybody, I'm going to repeat what I heard from out there: Burley, Cassidy, DiNozzo, Jardine, McGee, Pacci, Patterson, Sciuto, Shepard, Todd, Vance and Yates. Clap if you're NCIS and I missed you."

Nothing.

"O-kay," Gibbs said. "Thanks for your patience. Anybody out there _not_ NCIS, clap twice."

There was another smattering of _one-two_ clapping.

"Alright, out of that bunch, I want all the _federal_ law enforcement employees to clap once."

_Clap. Clap._

"Sounds like there's two of you," Gibbs said. "We're going alphabetical again..."

"You're a pain in the ass, you know that Gibbs?" A derisive voice called out. "This is taking forever. You're busy playing classroom management clapping games while none of us has any clue where we are or how we got here."

"Nice to hear your voice too, Tobias," Gibbs answered back. "So, FBI is here. Who else we got from J. Edgar Hoover?"

"Special Agent Ron Sacks, thanks for asking," Sacks said.

"Did he say 'Slacks'?" Tony chortled.

"DiNozzo, shut up," Gibbs snapped.

"Shutting up, Boss," a chastened Tony said.

"Anybody else out there we haven't called, clap twice," Gibbs said, then added: "as long as Agent _Fornell_ doesn't mind."

More clapping ensued.

"Okay, can I ask the ladies out of that group to clap once, please?"

There was a scattered clap pattern that indicated more than one woman.

"Alphabetic again," Gibbs requested.

On 'Charlie', JAG Lieutenant Commander Faith Coleman introduced herself.

"We got any other JAG personnel in here?" Gibbs asked. When there was no further reply, he moved on to 'Delta', and an accented female voice answered: "David, Ziva. Mossad."

"Thanks, Officer David," Gibbs said cordially. "Any other Mossad?"

No reply.

"Did we cover everyone?" Gibbs called out. "If you were missed, please give a clap..."

Again, nothing.

With a quiet sigh of relief, Gibbs said, "Alright, then. Thanks for your patience, every-"

Before he could finish his sentence, the darkness was dispelled by a giant orb of light that appeared high above their heads. For the first time, all the individuals could see each other and make out their surroundings.

They were standing facing each other, arranged in a circle, inside a circular room with a high, domed ceiling. The orb that now provided illumination appeared to be hovering mid-air of its own accord.

Stan ventured a look at his feet to see if he could determine why he couldn't move them. He saw that he was standing on a circular tile, gunmetal grey in colour. The floor itself was made of some unidentifiable black material. It looked like polished ebony to Stan, and he noticed every other individual gathered was also standing on a circle identical to his.

He immediately recognized the silver-haired Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs with his typical Marine posture and severe haircut. He was dressed in a dark jacket and matching slacks that Stan knew many NCIS agents jokingly surmised were bought on sale at Sears. Gibbs was standing at approximately one o'clock in relation to Stan.

Agent Burley looked further around the circle and recognized Agents Pacci, DiNozzo and Todd, as well as lab technician, Abby Sciuto. He'd heard of most of the other agents at least by name, but as yet could not pair names with faces. He turned his head to his right. The pretty blonde next to him had to be the agent who identified herself as 'Paula Cassidy'. Stan then turned his head to his left. The serious-looking African American who was chomping down furiously on a toothpick had to be 'Leon Vance'. The rest of them – JAG, FBI and... who was that exotic-looking, foreign-sounding woman representing... oh, yes: Officer David of Israel's _Mossad_, of all places – he did not know at all.

Suddenly, a menacing-sounding Gibbs burst out: "_You!_"

Stan snapped his head in the older agent's direction, and followed a red-faced Gibbs' stare to a lean young man with closely-cropped hair and a roguish, wide grin. He was about nine o'clock in relation to Stan.

Gibbs had murder written all over his face. Stan heard a gasp from agent Todd, and Tony was scowling. Abby had her hands over her mouth.

"Yes, it is me, Agent Gibbs," the young man finally spoke with an accent Stan couldn't quite place. "You will forgive me for not engaging in your little clap-clap game earlier..."

"Ari."

Still unable to move his feet, Stan craned his neck in the direction of the speaker. White haired and balding FBI Agent Tobias Fornell was looking at the young man now.

"Hello, Agent Fornell," Ari said with a slight nod. Then he turned to look at Agent Todd. "Caitlin," he crooned, "so nice to see you again."

"I can't say the same for you... 'Ari'," she replied, through clenched teeth.

"Fornell, is that the name of this sonofabitch? 'Ari'?!" Gibbs practically shouted at the FBI agent. "You _know_ him?!"

Before Stan could hear any reply from Fornell, a paralysing jolt of what felt like an electrical current surged through his entire body. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt his muscles contracting in spasms. Everyone cried out in pain and confusion.

_Please stop! Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop! _ Stan's mind yelled.

After about ten seconds of agony, the mysterious onslaught abated.

_What the hell was that_? Stan thought, and opened his eyes. His fingers and toes were still tingling.

Movement above Stan caught his attention. Like a curtain parting, a section of the curved wall noiselessly scrolled away, revealing what appeared to be a glassed-in observation deck with rows of seats facing towards them.

If Stan hadn't been confined to his circle, he would have jumped out of his skin over what happened next. In a panicked frenzy, he grabbed for his sidearm, but found it was not there... In any case, he wasn't sure if he would have been able to squeeze off a round at what he was now seeing.

Stan could only describe them as 'creatures' or 'beings', and they filed noiselessly into the rows of seats. There were dozens of them, approximately nine feet tall, and they all wore long, flowing iridescent robes that resembled the finest silk. They had skins that looked like burnished bronze. Their bald, large, shiny heads grew out of long, thin necks with faces that were flat as pancakes. They had two narrow slits for what Stan guessed were their eyes - eyes which were unsearchable black pools of mystery.

A ripple of surprised gasps and exclamations went through the group of humans.

"Whoa..." Abby breathed in fascinated wonderment.

"Well I'll be damned," Stan heard the FBI man named Fornell utter, "that crazy Agent 'Spooky' was right..."

Stan stared, open-mouthed, in horror. _Aliens! We've been taken by aliens! _ The illogical part of his brain wondered what sorts of outlandish and bizarre experiments were about to be conducted on them as his imagination ran wild.

The logical part of Stan's brain was considering the placement of the facial features on these alien beings. They seemed to have other things in common with human beings. After the eyes, Stan noticed two indentations in the middle of their faces that reminded him of what a nose-less person might look like. He'd once seen a gunshot victim whose nose had been shot off. What Stan saw on the aliens resembled what was left after the victim had undergone some reconstructive surgery. It made Stan quiver with dread and disgust.

These aliens seemed to have no discernible lips, but did have a line where a mouth ought to be. Thus far, none of the aliens had opened a mouth to confirm Stan's suspicion.

The bright, floating orb above them separated into two halves, revealing another one of the tall creatures. This one was attired in a gold-colored robe, and it raised its alien equivalent of arms in the air. Stan was surprised to find it had hands that were similar to human hands: five-fingered, complete with opposable thumbs.

"Thank you for joining us all here today," the gold-robed alien said, and lowered its arms.

The aliens gathered in the observation deck emitted a squawking noise, _rawk-rawk-rawk_, in reply.

_It speaks _English?!Stan thought with incredulity.

"Congratulations, Agent Gibbs, for successfully getting almost every contestant to identify themselves," the gold-robed alien addressed the senior agent. "We are most impressed! By far, you managed to accomplish this the quickest of all our participants in the history of the game."

Gibbs cocked an eyebrow. "'Game'? Who are you? What the hell is this?!"

"Yeah!" Fornell added angrily. "Where the hell are we? This is kidnapping! That's a federal offense -"

A new electrical attack suddenly commenced, silencing Fornell mid-sentence, and causing everyone to once again strain against the pain.

Ten seconds later, it came to an end.

"If you please, you will only speak when spoken to," the alien addressed them, but seemed to be singling out Fornell in particular. "The consequences are not pleasant, as you have already discovered."

Stan said a silent prayer that the brash FBI agent would keep his mouth shut, as feeling finally began to return to his extremities. He had no desire for a repeat of the torture being inflicted upon them.

"To answer you, Agent Gibbs, I am Tybaogw Tatlen, the host of this game show," the gold-robed alien said with a theatrical flourish. "Allow me to welcome you all to the most popular intergalactic show this side of the Milky Way: _This is Your Death_!"

Another series of _rawk-rawk-rawk_ cries was heard from the viewing gallery.

_This is Your Death_? Stan thought, horrified. _What kind of 'game' is this_? He was afraid to hear the answer, and saw the looks of fright and consternation on the faces of those around him.

"As he was the one most instrumental in first getting the contestants to identify themselves under difficult circumstances," host Tybaogw Tatlen added, "Agent Gibbs is awarded a bye!"

_Rawk-rawk-rawk!! _came the alien shouts of approval.

"A 'bye'?" Gibbs questioned. Tybaogw produced a glowing sphere from a pocket in his robe, and it floated down to Gibbs, settling just above his head.

"Yes," the alien host said. "It allows you one immunity."

"Immunity to what?" Gibbs demanded an answer.

"Why, your death," Tybaogw said in surprise, as if this much was obvious. "Should your number come up, you use the bye. You are bypassed, and another participant is selected instead, thereby prolonging your participation in the game. If you are the last contestant remaining, you are declared the unequivocal champion and winner of this edition of _This is Your Death_!"

_Rawk-rawk-rawk!!_ the alien audience crowed.

Stan knew he wasn't the only one bursting with questions, but kept his silence, knowing that the threat of more pain was hanging over their heads. He was relieved no one else was speaking out of turn.

"I want to use my bye now," Gibbs said, and jabbed a finger in Ari's direction. "I want_ him_ gone!"

Tybaogw's head swivelled left and right in what Stan thought was a very human action indicating a negative response. "I am sorry, Gibbs," the alien stated, "that would be against the rules. Your number is not yet up."

Gibbs glowered. Ari grinned. Kate narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.

Tybaogw raised his arms again, looked out to the viewing gallery and proclaimed: "Now, without further ado, it is time to play_This is Your Death!_"

_Rawk-rawk-rawk-rawk-rawk-rawk-rawk!_ went the audience.

"I am Tybaogw Talten, your host, and today we have several contestants from the planet Earth. Let us review the rules for them now, and for the benefit of all you viewers out there in our studio audience, and those across the galaxy."

_Rawk-rawk-rawk!_

"Now, then," Tybaogw said, when the audience quieted, "our computer will randomly select a contestant per round to spin the Wheel of Misfortune. This will continue until one contestant remains. He or she will then be declared the unequivocal champion and winner of this edition of _This is Your Death!_ The winner, of course, receives an all-expenses paid trip to the New Gurinnok homeworld, where he or she will have the extreme good fortune to reside for a lifetime among the denizens of the Natural Museum of Interplanetary Life. Is that not great, folks?"

_Rawk-rawk-rawk!_ The aliens cried in approval.

Round screens placed strategically throughout the room transmitted images of these audience reactions, then switched to focus on the circle of human contestants.

After a few seconds of that, the image on the monitors flipped to a close-up of the gold-robed alien host.

_Natural Museum of Interplanetary Life?!_ Stan thought with a shudder, growing more and more perturbed. _This is nuts! Who in their right mind would want to win such a prize?_

"And now, let the game begin!" the alien emcee declared.

_Rawk-rawk-rawk-rawk-rawk-rawk-rawk-rawk-rawk-rawk-rawk!!_! Went the alien audience, seemingly having a great time.

The glowing halves of the floating orb dimmed, casting eerie shadows about the room. The circles beneath the feet of the human contestants began flashing in random, alternating patterns. They cycled up and down several times before finally slowing completely, until only one circle was lit: that of the one under Agent Chris Pacci.

A _rawk_! of dismay went up from a single alien in the audience as the round screens displayed a shot of a bewildered Pacci.

"Oh... hey," Pacci said uneasily. "What does this mean?"

"It means," Tybaogw said, "that you are the first up for... how shall we call it, elimination."

"Elimination!" Pacci spoke out. "What do you mean? Hey - !"

Pacci's circular tile suddenly rose from the floor, bringing the surprised agent up into the air. It sailed to the center of the room while the rest of the humans stared up at the spectacle in awe.

The middle of the shiny black floor sank away, and up rose a wheel that reminded Agent Burley of the popular Earth game show _Wheel of Fortune_, only this wheel was perpendicular to the ground, like a Ferris Wheel. Instead of dollar amounts, 'Bankrupt' spaces and other prize wedges, the sections on this alien wheel contained spaces that said things like: 'Common Ways to Die' (there were several of those); 'Uncommon Ways to Die' (less of those); 'Extremely Uncommon Ways to Die' (still less of those), two spaces that said 'Surprise Ending', and one space that said 'Lucky Day'.

Stan could see the looks on the faces of his fellow humans at the sight of the wheel. Everyone was staring at it with a mix of apprehension and unease.

"Go ahead, Agent Christopher Pacci," Tybaogw said encouragingly, "give the wheel a spin! Who knows? Maybe you will land on 'Lucky Day' and live to see another round!"

Pacci looked around self-consciously. Stan could tell he didn't like being the center of attention.

"What if I don't spin?" Pacci asked defiantly. "What if I tell you aliens to shove this stupid game, and to return us to Earth immediately?!"

_Oh, no! Don't rile these guys, Pacci_, Stan thought fearfully, wincing in preparation for what he knew was about to come. The expected agonizing shock of electricity coursed through his body, seizing his muscles, and causing his jaw to clench painfully. Stan heard grunts of pain from those near him, and willed himself to count the now predictable ten seconds until the attack finally subsided.

"Do not put your friends through needless harm by delaying the game," Tybaogw admonished. "We would hate to see one of them die of heart failure prematurely..." The alien host appealed to the crowd: "Would we not?"

_Rawk-rawk-rawk-rawk_! They cried.

Pacci sighed. He gripped one of the nearest prongs on the wheel, and gave it a hearty tug. The wheel spun easily and swiftly, the multi-colored 'Ways to Die' wedges blending together in a dizzying blur.

When the wheel finally slowed, the needle on the wheel slipped past 'Lucky Day' and settled on 'Extremely Uncommon Ways to Die'.

A gasp surprise went up from the alien audience, and an angrier_ Rawk_! went up from one alien in particular.

"Oh, my!" the alien host said. "We have not seen this one in a while. Agent Christopher Pacci, remove that wedge from the wheel, please, to reveal... Your death!"

"My what?!" Chris yelled. "This is crazy! This -" he stopped himself mid-sentence.

Stan Burley breathed a sigh of relief, grateful Pacci realized he had probably been about to cause another round of electrical torture.

Pacci reached out a hand tentatively and pulled away the wedge.

In bold, red letters, everyone was able to read: EVISCERATION.

A sharp _rawk_! sounded, and Stan looked up and saw one of the aliens huffily storm out of the gallery.

"Evisceration, dear audience members!" Tybaogw announced with gusto. "Let us see what this means for our Agent Christopher Pacci..."

The round monitors throughout the room suddenly went blank and a new image appeared.

"What the hell!" Pacci sputtered, upon seeing the display.

Stan felt his stomach flip in disgust.

"Oh my God," he heard Paula Cassidy whisper to his right.

"Now that's just wrong, man," Leon Vance muttered to Stan's left.

Though he desperately wanted to, Stan found it almost impossible to tear his eyes from the sight of Pacci on the screen, his abdomen splayed open with his intestines exposed. There was a vacant expression on the face; he was clearly dead.

"Christopher Pacci, this is your death! Say goodbye to Agent Christopher Pacci, everyone!" Tybaogw said enthusiastically.

_Rawk-rawk-rawk_! Went the alien audience.

A bright light enveloped a dumbfounded Pacci, then he vanished.

Stan gulped back a rising lump of terror and nearly gagged on the bile that burned the back of his throat. _This can't be happening_, he thought, _this has got to be a nightmare._ But the more Stan thought about it, the more he realized he'd never before had a more vivid dream.

"Please ready yourselves for Round Two!" Tybaogw said.

_Rawk-rawk-rawk_! The alien audience cried.

A new wedge materialized out of nowhere to conceal the EVISCERATIONspace Pacci had uncovered, readying the wheel for the next spin.

Again, the circles beneath the feet of the contestants lit up in a random pattern. When at last the dancing stopped, Stan saw that the one the senior FBI agent was occupying was still lit.

A sole _rawk_! of dismay sounded from the gallery. Fornell started for a moment, then composed himself. He sent a sharp look up at the alien host. "Let's get this over with," he said testily.

"Come on up, Agent Tobias Fornell!" Tybaogw called jovially.

"Like I have a choice," the FBI agent muttered. His tile bore him up swiftly to the Wheel of Misfortune. He gripped one of the pegs and pulled with all his might, sending the wheel spinning crazily.

Round and round it went, for a much longer time than when Pacci had spun it.

It eventually slowed and skipped past numerous 'Ways to Die' wedges... Tobias held his breath as the 'Lucky Day' wedge came around...

Stan could feel everyone also holding their breath expectantly as they watched the wheel come to a halt, the momentum barely enough to push past one of the 'Extremely Uncommon Ways to Die' wedges and land on 'Lucky Day'.

"Yes!" Fornell exclaimed, then composed himself, wiping the smile of exuberance from his face and returning to his usual sardonic disposition.

_Rawk-rawk-rawk_! Went the alien crowd.

"Agent Tobias Fornell has landed on 'Lucky Day'!" Tybaogw remarked. "He will live to see another round. Now, let us get going with Round Three..."

Fornell's tile returned him to his place on the floor amidst his fellow humans. When he touched down, he wiped a hand across his brow. He'd made it through one elimination round safely, but now it suddenly looked like the stress was taking its toll.

"You alright, sir?" Agent Ron Sacks enquired of Fornell.

Fornell swallowed a few times and just nodded his reply.

Stan let go the breath he'd been holding. He hadn't wanted to see another awful death scene like they'd seen of Agent Pacci. He couldn't shake loose the gruesome image, and wondered if what they'd seen was really the manner the agent was to die. Also, where had he vanished to after his turn was up?

His thoughts were interrupted when the round tiles started flashing again in their sporadic manner.

_What do I do if it stops on mine_? Stan wondered. _Do I want to see myself dead? I can't refuse to spin __that wheel; it'll doom everyone else to unnecessary suffering. That older guy, Fornell, doesn't look like he'll be able to take much more of this shock treatment..._

"Special Agent Caitlin Todd... come on up!"

_Rawk-rawk_! Came a couple cries from the alien audience.

Stan heard a small gasp, and saw Abby Scuito cover her mouth with her hands. The goth-scientist's eyes were wide, and she looked as if she were trying to hold back tears.

Stan's eyes flew to Gibbs. He saw his former boss' face turn to stone, and saw Tony swallow nervously.

"Hey, Mr. Host," Gibbs called out. "What if I want to pass my bye on to someone else?"

"A noble gesture, to be sure," Tybaogw answered, "but also against the rules."

Gibbs' fists clenched, and Stan knew it was taking every ounce of his control not to shout out something that would land them all in more trouble.

Kate closed her eyes in resignation. "Whatever," she said, "we all have to die one day, right?"

"Kate..." Gibbs spoke softly, "I'm..."

"I know," she replied before he could say anything further. "You tried. But maybe I'll get lucky and land on another 'Lucky Day', right?"

"Go ahead and spin!" Tybaogw instructed, when Kate arrived at the wheel.

Hoping to duplicate Fornell's result, Kate gripped one of the pegs and tugged as hard as she could.

_I can't look_, Stan thought. _I can't bear to see what's going to happen._ But look he did, and watched as the 'Lucky Day' spot again came around as the wheel slowed, just as it had done with Fornell. The needle went _tick-tick-tick_ against the pegs, and finally pinged against the one just before 'Lucky Day'. For a brief moment, it looked like it was going to land on the coveted spot, but there was not enough steam to carry it past the final, crucial peg.

Kate groaned.

_Rawk_! _Rawk_! Went a couple members of the alien audience.

"No!" Abby gasped in dismay under her breath.

"Aw, Kate..." Gibbs sighed, and gave his head a shake. His shoulders slumped, as if weary of bearing a heavy burden. All the color drained from Tony's face, and Agent Timothy McGee sported a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look.

"Extremely Uncommon Ways to Die!" Tybaogw exclaimed, thankfully ignoring Abby and Gibbs. "My, that is a popular one today!"

"So, you want me to grab this wedge, don't you?" Kate asked with a disgusted scowl. "Before I do, let me ask you something: Is what that wedge reveals really the way I'm going to die, or is this just some sick way you all have of entertaining yourselves?"

_Oh, Kate, don't insult these aliens_! Stan silently begged.

But Tybaogw didn't seem insulted. "It is a common misconception, Agent Caitlin Todd," the alien host said. "This is absolutely the way you will die. The Wheel of Misfortune does not lie. I have not explained to you that we are a time-traveling race. We capture images of every one of your deaths when they occur for the purposes of this game. It is only the last one standing who will be relieved from the burden of that Earth-death when we provide him or her with a lifetime residence on New Gurinnok... So you can see how being the last one standing is certainly a desirable outcome. One, I am sorry to say, that is not a possibility for you. Pull away your wedge, please."

Kate resignedly pulled away the 'Extremely Uncommon Ways to Die' wedge and revealed ASSASSINATION.

"Ha!" she cried, shooting a triumphant glare at the alien host. "That's not possible. I'm not a Secret Service agent anymore. There's no way I'll die preventing a presidential assassination."

Her relief quickly turned to disquiet as a picture of herself emerged, lying flat on a rooftop with a bullet-hole through her forehead.

_Rawk_! _Rawk_! Two more aliens got up and left the audience.

Stan turned his head away from the horrible scene of his fellow agent, and noticed Paula Cassidy avert her eyes, too.

"Aw, hell," Leon spat.

"Kate..." Abby whispered mournfully. Stan saw tears dripping down the goth's face. For a brief moment, he thought he saw a smirk on the Ari fellow's face, but he couldn't be sure.

"Goodbye, Agent Caitlin Todd!" Tybaogw chortled, and Kate vanished in the same manner as Pacci.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, you bastard, or so help me God, I'll wipe it off for you!" Gibbs growled at Ari.

"Gibbs!" Ari said defensively, "You must stop. Think of everyone else. Do not give these... aliens reason to start with the torture again. Your friend, Fornell, he does not look so good after all of this-"

"Stop, both of you!" the young, female Mossad officer called out in warning. Gibbs shot her an angry 'mind-your-own-business' look, but maintained his silence after the initial outburst.

"We are now moving into Round Four," Tybaogw announced, and Stan was grateful that the latest outburst had not resulted in further torment.

_I'm getting tired of this game_, he thought wearily. _I want to stop. I want to be back on the carrier. I want to be back on Earth..._

He didn't want to see who the game show computer would select next; didn't want to know what horrid fates awaited them all. Stan kept his eyes closed even after he heard another series of unhappy_ rawks_! from the alien audience.

But an expletive in a foreign language erupted, prompting Stan to crack open a curious eye.

"Ari," Tybaogw said, "time to play _This is Your Death_!"

Stan saw the object of Gibbs' wrath ascend to the wheel, his face dark with fury. "What is the point of this game?!" Ari demanded. "I refuse to participate!"

"Ari..." Ziva David murmured softly, almost pleadingly.

Stan noticed Gibbs send the Mossad officer an inquisitive look.

"You cannot refuse to participate," Tybaogw said, "lulls like that kill our viewer ratings."

"I care not for your ratings!" Ari hollered. "This game is insipid, and I demand to be returned to Earth at once!"

"Ari, please," Ziva verbalized aloud.

Stan cringed again, awaiting the punishment for Ari's lack of cooperation.

"Arrgh!" Ari cried out.

Stan looked up at Ari, and saw him twitching and writhing in pain.

After ten seconds, the spasms stopped, and Ari gasped for air. "You- you bastards..." he stammered. "I thought you were going to inflict the torture on _them_! Is that not the way you threaten contestants to get them to comply?"

Tybaogw shook his head. "In most cases, yes," the alien said. "It was clear to our judges, however, that you are not really allied with anyone here. Therefore, watching the rest of the contestants suffer would have no impact on you."

Stan heard the man swear once again under his breath.

"Spin the wheel, Ari," Tybaogw instructed. "Or do you prefer the pain of punishment for not participating?"

Stan caught a glimpse of Gibbs. He could see grim satisfaction on the older man's face, and wondered what on earth he had against this Ari fellow, since it was clear there was quite a lot of bad blood between them.

Ari's face held a look of bitterness. He hesitantly raised his arm, and half-heartedly spun the wheel. He watched it languidly rotate, his eyes dull in resignation.

At last the wheel settled, and Ari stared at the result: Extremely Uncommon Ways to Die.

Up rose another_ rawk_! from the viewing gallery.

"Another 'Extremely Uncommon Ways to Die'!" Tybaogw exclaimed. "Oh, you Earthlings are full of surprises. This is most unprecedented!"

Infuriated, Ari reached out and yanked the wedge off the wheel, revealing FRATRICIDE.

"Fratricide!" the alien host proclaimed. "Amazing! Let us see what that looks like for Ari."

Ari watched, slack-jawed, as a picture of him came into focus on the monitors.

Gibbs could not hide his surprise when he recognized what he was seeing: Ari, lying dead on a sawdust-covered ground, with a bullet through his head.

"Say good-bye to Ari, everyone!" Tybaogw chirped.

"Ziva!! How could - " Ari's cry was cut off as he disappeared, his face frozen in a twisted expression of rage.

Stan watched as the Mossad officer lowered her head. He also noticed Gibbs send another sharp, questioning look in her direction. Stan could almost read the thoughts in his former boss' head: _What was that exchange all about? How well did those two know each other?_

"Moving on to Round Five," Tybaogw announced cheerily. "Do not get too tired yet, dear contestants; we are not even half-way done!"

Stan wanted to pull out his hair. There were thirteen of them remaining now, and he felt like his head was going to explode with tension. The thought occurred to him to just simply zone out; forget where he was, and imagine a 'happy place', where ugly images of bloodied bodies and brain matter sprayed on surfaces could not intrude.

Again, the tiles under their feet pulsed, flickering around for several seconds until finally settling on one contestant.

"Aw, hell, no! Boss..." Tony blurted out.

Stan heard a gasp from Abby; heard her struggle to contain a pitiful scream.

"Jethro," came an uneasy utterance from the red-haired woman Stan decided through a process of elimination must be Agent Jenny Shepard. Again, he wondered what their connection might be.

Stan felt his heart sink, taking in the undeniable truth that Gibbs was up for the Wheel of Misfortune.

"Agent Jethro Gibbs," Tybaogw called, "your number has been called! But-"

The alien crowd up in the gallery broke into a frenzied _rawk-rawk-rawk-rawk_ in anticipation.

"But-" Tybaogw repeated, "you have a bye!"

The alien crowd went mad. They rose to their feet, chanting ever more loudly a series of boisterous _rawks_ that seemed to go on forever.

The host raised his arms in a calming gesture, appealing for silence.

Gibbs regarded the host with a steely gaze. "I refuse," he stated flatly.

"Oh, you cannot refuse," Tybaogw said, nonplussed. "It is against the rules. Besides, you will want to remain in the game for as long as possible -"

"Not if it means someone else in the game has to lose because I choose to use the bye," Gibbs countered. "I will not allow that to happen!"

"I am truly sorry, Gibbs, but rules are rules," Tybaogw said, though he hardly sounded apologetic. So said, the small sphere that had remained in place above Gibbs' head from the time it had been awarded came to life, glowing brightly. It bobbed a few times, then sailed up into the air, flitting hither and yon, zigging and zagging over the heads of the remaining contestants. It emitted a slight hum, almost like a bee.

Stan followed its unpredictable path with wary eyes, praying it not come anywhere near him.

_Oh, crap_... he thought in dismay, as it buzzed him once, but moved on and circled around again.

Everyone ducked or swayed if the ball came too close for comfort.

_Here it comes again! _Stan thought. He shut his eyes tightly, not daring to see if it had finally stopped above his head. The humming sound seemed quite close now, its nearness causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise.

"Oh, no," Stan heard Tony's voice quietly mumble.

A mix of angry and amused_ rawks!_ rippled through the audience.

"It's okay, Tony," came soft whisper from Stan's right.

Stan turned. An unemotional Paula Cassidy was staring resolutely ahead, the glowing sphere at rest above her head.

"No," Gibbs fumed, "it's not okay! Dammit, you alien bastards, this is supposed to be _my_ death!" He jabbed an angry finger at his chest. "Mine!"

"Special Agent Gibbs," Tybaogw admonished, "we have tolerated your outbursts up until this point because you are an audience favorite. However, these outbursts must cease, otherwise there will be further consequences."

Gibbs looked like he was about to blow a gasket.

"Agent Gibbs," Paula said to the senior agent, "please don't make this any harder than it is..."

Before she could say anything further, she was lifted up to face the Wheel of Misfortune.

"Special Agent Paula Cassidy," Tybaogw stated almost gleefully, "it is now your turn to play _This is Your Death!_ Give the wheel a spin!"

She looked down on her fellow contestants below and searched out Gibbs. "It's not your fault," she said, "I don't blame you."

"Agent Cassidy," the alien host said with a warning tone, "you are delaying us unnecessarily."

She sent him a scathing look that said _screw you_. "Here goes nothing," Paula said, and gave the wheel a monstrous tug.

Stan noticed Tony forlornly shaking his head.

The wheel spun for a lengthy time before finally coming to a stop on another 'Extremely Uncommon Ways to Die' space.

Amused, Tybaogw said: "If I did not know any better, I would say this wheel was rigged! How about that? _Another_ Extremely Uncommon Way to Die!"

_Rawk-rawk-rawk!_ The alien audience called out.

"I can't watch," said a disconsolate Tony, turning his head away.

Without even waiting for Tybaogw's prompting, Paula tore away the wedge, revealing ACT OF TERROR.

"Oh, really?" she expressed with a note of surprise.

"Let's see what that looks like for Special Agent Cassidy!" Tybaogw trilled.

_Let's not_,thought Stan, but could not help but look up at the screens with a fascinated horror. An image of a small room darkened with smoke and dust soon appeared, with charred body parts strewn across the floor...

"Say good-bye to Agent Paula Cassidy, everyone!" Tybaogw expressed with a jaunty wave of his hand.

A shaft of light surrounded a stunned Paula, and she was gone.

Tony looked like he was going to retch. A snapping sound drew Stan's attention, and he realized Leon had just bitten down a little too hard on his toothpick, splitting it into pieces.

"Moving on to Round Six," Tybaogw announced. "Time to choose another contestant."

Just as they had done before, the tiles beneath the feet of the contestants flashed. _Not again_, Stan thought. _Someone has to make this stop. _

When the cycle ended, the last circle lit was under the feet of Agent Jenny Shepard. Her eyes went slowly from the floor, to Gibbs, to Tybaogw.

A soft gasp came from the Mossad Officer, prompting Gibbs to once again send a puzzled glance in her direction.

Another series of _rawks!_ burst forth from the alien audience, and an image of them flashed up on the monitors, revealing a commotion in the aisle. Four aliens appeared to be involved in a small tiff, but they quieted and settled back into their seats when they realized that all they were being watched.

"My, it looks like our studio audience is really getting into the game, now!" Tybaogw said merrily. "Now, Agent Jenny Shepard, it is time to play _This is Your Death_!"

"Jen," Jethro whispered to her helplessly, knowing that there was nothing he could do to prevent what was to happen next.

She sent him back a sad smile as she coasted up the to Wheel of Misfortune.

"Here we go again," Leon Vance said sullenly, in a low voice that Stan had to strain to pick up.

Jenny bravely gave the wheel a spin, hoping to land a 'Lucky Day' spot, but it was not to be.

"_Another_ Extremely Uncommon Ways to Die?!"Tybaogw exclaimed. "Dear members of the audience, never in all my time as host of this show have I seen so many of these in one game!"

_Rawk-rawk-rawk-rawk-rawk! _cried the aliens in the gallery.

Stan watched dejectedly as Jenny peeled away the wedge to reveal her manner of death. It read: ASSASSINATION.

"_Wow,_" Tybaogw said, "what is it with you NCIS agents and assassinations? Oh, well, let us see what this looks like for Agent Jenny Shepard."

Jenny gaped at a dimly-lit, dusty diner floor where her blood-stained and motionless body lay.

"Jen..." Gibbs whispered mournfully, and ran a hand over his face.

"Say good-bye to Agent Jenny Shepard!" Tybaogw said, and Jenny departed in the blink of an eye.

Stan dared a peek at Gibbs, and saw the other man was livid with unexpressed rage.

"This has to stop," Gibbs fumed.

"Jethro," Tobias hissed in a warning voice, "don't let them hear you! You'll doom us all!"

"We're_ already _doomed, Tobias, don't you get it?" Gibbs shot back heatedly.

"It is time for Round Seven!" announced Tybaogw, and paused to allow for the studio audience's reactive squawks.

"What should we do, Boss?" Tony asked_, sotto_ _voce_, nervously watching as the round tiles lit up for another selection phase.

"I wish I knew, DiNozzo," Gibbs sighed resignedly.

"I can't take this," Stan heard Abby warble.

"Shh, it's okay, Abby," Agent McGee said soothingly, as loud as he dared. "We're gonna make it out of here. I know it."

"Oh yeah?" Tony countered. "How do you figure, McKnow-it-all? We're stuck here. We can't move. We don't have our weapons. We can't escape... We can't click our heels and chant 'there's no place like home'-"

"I was just trying to make her feel better," an indignant McGee replied under his breath, "which is better than what you're doing."

They were all suddenly gripped in another ten-second series of intense electrical shocks. Stan did not believe he had ever experienced such excruciating pain, and though he knew it would end, it seemed like an eternity before it did.

When the jolts finally ceased, Tybaogw chided them: "If you please, there will be no more unsanctioned conversation amongst the contestants."

Everyone was groaning and gasping for air, cheeks puffing like fish on dry land. Tobias was pale-faced and looked like he was about to faint.

Unnoticed through the 'punishment', another contestant had been selected for the elimination phase.

"Agent Jack Patterson, it is time for you to play _This is Your Death!_" Tybaogw declared.

Several more alien audience members angrily cried _rawk-rawk-rawk!_ at this news.

Abby sucked in a breath, pressing her knuckles to her teeth to keep from verbally reacting as the agent beside her flew up to the Wheel of Misfortune.

The man looked exhausted, but he obediently spun the wheel. "Anything to get out of this nuthouse," he said. "I don't care any more what happens to me."

_Tick-tick-tick-tick _went the needle against the pegs, and the wheel at last slowed and stopped on -

"_Extremely Uncommon Ways to Die!" _the alien host was very taken aback. "Honestly, the producers of this show might have to reconsider what is uncommon and what is common after this edition of _This is Your Death!"_

Agent Jack Patterson pulled away the wedge and saw: ASSASSINATION.

"_This is truly a most remarkable turn of events!_" Tybaogw exclaimed with amazement. "_Another_ assassination! We simply must see what this looks like for you, Agent Jack Patterson!"

"You sickos," Jack grumbled, tossing the wedge to the floor.

A night-time picture developed of Jack's body lying inert on a street, a bullet wound to the temple.

_Rawk-rawk-rawk!_ A handful of aliens vocalized, and they stormed out of the viewing gallery.

"Say good-bye to Agent Jack Patterson!" Tybaogw said, and the agent disappeared like every other eliminated contestant before him.

_When will this end?_ Stan thought miserably. The circle of contestants was now quite visibly depleted.

"It is now time for Round Eight!" Tybaogw announced to a similarly depleted studio audience.

For the first time, Stan also took notice of the empty seats in the viewing gallery. He had dimly been aware that some of the audience members had been leaving throughout the show, and he wondered now what it meant.

On cue, the round tiles blinked their mind-numbing pattern, and Stan found himself idly wondering what life on 'New Gurinnok' might actually be like.

_Have you lost your mind_?! A competing thought blasted through his consciousness. _You're actually entertaining the notion that living in an alien zoo for the rest of your life is a desirable alternative to facing the music back home?!... Okay, maybe not... But, what if we just all decided to refuse to play this stupid game anymore?... Just let them zap us until we fry... _

"Agent Stan Burley, come on up!"

Stan snapped to attention upon hearing his name called. He cast a fearful glance to his feet and felt his blood run cold. The tile he occupied was aglow, signalling that he had been selected.

Gibbs' mouth was a taut line, and his eyes reflected concern and regret.

Stan, resigned to his fate, did not say a word as his tile whisked him to the Wheel of Misfortune.

_I guess my number is up,_ Stan thought. _Hey, maybe I'll land on a 'Lucky Day' spot, right? _He gripped one of the pegs as he'd seen so many of his other colleagues do, and gave the wheel a spin. Stan watched it go, not really caring what is fate would be, as long as he was actually returned to his home once this ordeal was finished.

"Agent Stan Burley, you have landed on 'Surprise Ending'!" Tybaogw declared.

"Yay for me," Stan responded without enthusiasm.

"Pull away your wedge, Agent Burley," the tall, gold-robed alien directed.

But before he could remove the wedge, a sudden disturbance broke out in the studio audience.

_Rawk! Rawk! Rawk!!!_

For the first time, Tybaogw Tatlen looked rattled and confused by the commotion. Stan looked up at the alien audience to see a multitude of new aliens streaming into the gallery, these ones dressed in black, form-fitting outfits. These new arrivals were rounding up the rest of the aliens, restraining them and shouting indecipherable orders.

"Rawk Rawk Raaaaaaaaaaawk!" Tybaogw cried as he saw this, and he leapt down from his perch with surprising agility to the floor below. The game show host then tried to scurry out of the room through a door that slid open upon his command. He ran straight into the waiting arms of another member of the newly-arrived aliens.

"Rawwwwwwwwwk...." Tybaogw pitifully moaned in dismay as he surrendered.

Slowly, it began to dawn on Stan what was happening. _They're being arrested!! These new guys must be some kind of alien police force or something!_

Below, Stan's fellow humans began to murmur in amazement at this turn of events. The tile that was supporting him gently descended, bringing him back to his original place.

"I think you just dodged a bullet, Agent Burley," Leon Vance said to him.

"Yeah," Stan said shakily, "I think I did!"

"Hey!" Tony cried out. "I can move!" To prove his point, he stepped off his tile and shook a leg.

"He's right," Lt. Commander Faith Coleman said, and also stepped off her tile.

Everyone tested their legs, and all found they were no longer being held captive on their respective tiles.

"Attention, Earthlings!" a voice boomed.

All eyes turned to focus on the new speaker. It was one of the black-clad aliens, and he was standing on the threshold of the door through which Tybaogw Tatlen had made his unsuccessful bid for escape.

"I am Lemptu Kytilag, Senior Prefect of the New Interplanetary Command Sentinels,"

_NICS? _Stan mused, suppressing a smirk, _I__ can't believe it._

"I'm Special Agent Gibbs, Naval Criminal Investigative Service," Gibbs addressed the alien authority. "Care to explain what just happened?!"

"We are dreadfully sorry to all of you that you were caught up in this," Kytilag said. "We certainly did not want to create an interplanetary incident. We will see to it that Tatlen and his partners are dealt with under the harshest penalty of interplanetary law."

"And what 'interplanetary law', besides abduction, torture, and captivity did our Mr. Tatlen violate?" Gibbs asked with angry sarcasm. Prefect Kytilag didn't flinch.

"We liken it to all those underground, illegal sports you have on your planet," the alien law enforcement officer replied. "I think the phrase you use is 'pari-mutuel' betting. You see, the audience members you saw earlier place enormous bets on the outcome of this game. The odds-makers also make prognostications on the number of times a certain wedge will be spun, as well as what form that death will take. Tybaogw Tatlen would also have been raking in a large sum selling the game show to private, intergalactic broadcasters who stream the signal to bettors in private residences and to illegal, off-site betting establishments. We have been after this particular operation for a while. Again, I extend my sincerest apologies on behalf of the NICS."

"So, what happens now?" Gibbs asked, not really knowing how to respond to Kytilag's revelations.

"Now, we send you back," Prefect Kytilag said. "I warn you, though, the method of transportation has the effect of – how can we put it into terms you will understand – it will 'Swiss cheese' your brains. It is very unlikely you will remember any of this. However, I cannot think of any reason why you should _want_ to remember... I should think you have all suffered enough during this barbaric game."

_We'd want to remember so we can prevent the deaths of our friends and colleagues!_ Stan wanted to blurt out, but before he could, a bright light shined down on him, and he felt as if he were being turned inside-out...

* * *

_Some time later, in a D.C. bar..._

"To Agent Christopher Pacci," Agent Gibbs said solemnly, raising a glass of bourbon. A crowd of NCIS agents, and representatives from other law enforcement agencies returned the gesture, raising their glasses in a toast. They drank to the memory of the recently deceased Chris Pacci, killed in the line of duty by a cross-dressing Commander that Agent Gibbs had shot dead. It was an incident that Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo would prefer to quickly forget, but was not upset that it meant that they had avenged Pacci.

Stan Burley heard the whole story from Agent Kate Todd, who seemed intent on making sure everyone knew Tony had made out with a man.

Stan looked over and saw Kate whispering gleefully to some uptight-looking JAG lawyer whose name was Faith something-or-other; he hadn't really been able to catch the name over the din of the bar when she'd introduced herself.

As he sipped his beer, Stan stared at the display that covered two walls in this establishment, honoring fallen law enforcement officers. He sought out the one of Chris Pacci, and gave the man a mental salute. Stan's gaze passed over some of the other photos, and he idly wondered how the rest of them had met their heroic deaths.

_Too morbid_, he admonished himself. _You're too morbid._

"Hey, Agent Burley!" came a girly, gravelly voice Stan instantly recognized as belonging to the forensics specialist, Abby Sciuto.

"Hi, Abby," Stan greeted her with a handshake, taking in her typical goth garb and pasty white foundation.

"I'm surprised to see you here," she said in a near-shout, trying to be heard above the noisy bar patrons and background music, "I thought you'd be out at sea!"

"Naw, I got special permission for this one," he explained. "Pacci and I were at FLETC together. I felt like I owed it to him."

Abby nodded. "Mm-Hmm," she murmured. "It's so sad. Gibbs said that Pacci wanted to see him about something, but said it could wait... Gibbs isn't done blaming himself yet. I guess he thinks if he'd listened to Pacci in the beginning, he could have prevented all of this... Evisceration... Not a pretty way to go out."

"No, it's not," Stan agreed. "Certainly not the way I'd want to go, that's for sure."

"Oh?" Abby responded, curiosity piqued. "How, exactly, would you want to go, Agent Burley?"

"I dunno," Stan said with a sigh. "Something quick; painless, like a bullet to the head, or something."

"Really? Not of natural causes at a ripe, old age?" Abby asked.

"I'd prefer not to die at all, if it were possible," Stan commented, and took a sip of his beer. He was actually starting to feel a little uncomfortable with this line of discussion.

"You know what they say, of course," Abby said, "that the only unavoidable things in life are death and taxes?"

"Yup," Stan replied, hoping for a change in topic.

"And did you know that about 82% of Americans believe in an afterlife of some kind?"

"Great," Stan said, feigning enthusiasm, and looked around for an opportunity to excuse himself.

"...And speaking of life, did you know that approximately 20% of people surveyed believe in life on other planets?? Now, I'm into far-out phenomena, but somehow, I just can't quite bring myself to believe that one without real proof..."

Stan just stared at her.

"What about you, Stan?" Abby asked, wide-eyed. "Do _you_ believe in tall, slit-eyed, nose-less, gold-robed, bronze-skinned men...?"

END


End file.
